Shoot to Kill
by Tenpouin Yuuki
Summary: He was my father.Now I'm just like him.A psychopath.A murderer.A raging serial killer looking for revenge. AU/OOC Former entitled Se7en
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:**I do not own KHR.

**Author's Note:**Naknamputa! Na-hack ng mga putapeteng **JAMICH** ung **JABITCH**page namin! Insecure tayo mga dre? **PAKAMATAY NA KAYO ULOL!**

**OKAY, THAT'S ENOUGH RANTING, WHEW!**

This fic is solely dedicated to **yeaawheww**because (finally!), I have her permission to adopt her KHR fanfic entitled **A Guardian's Help..it's a 1827 fic.**. check out this later guys. Is anybody out there who is willing to beta my beloved babies. T-T.. You're welcome in my humble abode. Oh my, before I forgot this is somewhat a sickly, twisted, psychotic, schizophrenic!Tsuna fic. NOPE- Just kidding! On with the story.

**Shoot to Kill**

_He was my I'm just like him.A psychopath.A murderer.A raging serial killer looking for revenge._

**Chapter 1**

I was 11 years old when I was about to meet my end.

It all began on one unexpected night. It was as dead silent as all the others, it being way past 12. My windows were held open and so the chilling Southern wind blew into my small bedroom, as well as brushing past my sleeping presence. Because of that, my curtains went gently flying this way and that. If you were to gaze outside, you would've noted the dark midnight-colored sky, imperfect with several gaps of white stars above. Now, look down at the empty line of houses below. Few houses were still dim with life, while the rest were so still as though caught on a frozen tape. As I was only a mere child of age 11, I was expected to be tucked into bed at most before the clock strikes the numeral 10. It as an easy rule to live by. Another rule was to never lock my door.

When I asked why, my father told me: "When trouble occurs, I'll be there, love, but what happens when I can't reach you in your room?" He reminded me constantly. Since I was a rather obedient child then, I always took his advice, whether right or unknowingly wrong. After all, he was the only family I had left, who else could I've looked up to? He is my father.

Oops. Was. He was my father. I'd prefer to keep it that way.

Before everything in my life made a terrible turn for the unspeakable, I recalled drifting away on a dream that very night. It was a dream that wove from my long-forgotten memories of the past. Memories that I yearned not to be just a dream, but to be brought back to my life. Though those were also the memories that brought pain to my heart and soul. Memories which heave too much weighing regret for me to handle alone.

This time, it was a dream about my already-deceased mother.

My mother in my dream looked as real as the one I missed too dearly. She looked extravagantly beautiful in her own subtle way. Even though she only wore a simple silken grey spaghetti strapped dress, she still looked as stunning as ever to any man that would dare to look at her as she passed by. She held an overwhelming sense of shimmering beauty as she stood simply in the wheat covered field we used to stop for a slight picnic when I was wee younger. It pained me just by thinking about the times like those - times when things felt like a fairytale and my character was the happiest person in the story. Under the summer sun, my mother's short and wavy hair looked more golden than its usual light brown shade. Her skin seemed to glow with a golden tinge. From the way I was positioned behind thick tree trunk and bundles of dried branches, I was hiding from my mother herself, as if I was playing a game of hide-and-seek. I was hiding and my mother was apparently seeking. I watched as she searched every nook and cranny of the long wheat field, calling my name as she did so. Now, after waiting for what felt like hours, my gorgeous mother stood a few meters from the tree which I stood hiding. I was daring. I knew the risk. I took peeks from behind my hiding spot, going further by inches, adrenaline rushed through my veins.

But maybe I was a bit too daring. By my fifth peek, my whole head was crystal clear to anyone within a kilometer. My blonde hair was the brightest highlight. Or maybe the sound of my high-pitched giggling brought my mother's head turning into my direction. Or could she have heard the faint yet still very audible snap of the dried branch from under my foot? Still, whatever the reason, my mother's attention was diverted to me. I reacted instantly.

But it could've been not to fast enough. Too late. My mother had seen my head retract back behind the oak. She chuckled, and it sounded close to a warm summer breeze in the sultry afternoon.

Slowly, my mother came towards my so-called "hiding place", saying, "Come on out, Tsu-chan. Mommy won't hurt you." Sensing defeat, my dream conscience tilted sideways, so my head was clearly exposed to mother. I laughed a giggly and childish laugh.

"How did you find me, mommy? How did you? How did you?" Excited was what described my tone.

My mother cocked her head slightly to her left shoulder, looking at me with that wondrous smile of hers; she said ever so clearly, "Come here, darling."

Truthfully, I didn't need her to tell me, I longed to be in the most safest arms I could find. I hugged her and in a response, my mother hugged me back, with her unusual soft touch. Deep in me, I craved to stay like this forever-as long as it was with my dear mother.

Everything could pass by as they please, I prayed for this moment to last. My childish self in my dream said, still embracing my mother, "Tell me, mommy, how? How did you find me?" I was literally bobbing up and down, anxious to receive a satisfied answer.

My mother smiled even wider at my enthusiasm, ended the hug, and carried me in her two arms alone. What she said next was expected as always: "Tsuna, I will always find you, you know that too well-maybe frankly a bit too well-no matter how far you go or how deep you are hidden, I will always be there for you, little one." She brought my head closer to her body, and at the same time, I treasured the appealing scent of lavender she always wore at formal occasions. The welcoming warmth of her body made me suddenly drowsy. This was the overpowering magic of my mother. Several times she admitted she felt unpretty, but dad could prove otherwise. Their unexpected marriage was evident proof.

Then, in my dream, my mother added,

"I promise that I will never leave you, Tsuna. I'll prevent that from happening. Nothing can stop us from being a complete family-a family that never can be broken, no matter what happens."

I looked up to those striking green eyes of hers and longed into their watery depths. And so I said in a joyful reply, "I know you will, mommy. I've always known you would." As I finished, my mother could secretly sense an obvious striking personality hidden in me. Simultaneously, we both grinned at each other, savoring that moment we still had together, though it never occurred to us that time was slipping slowly away for my mother. It was also one of those precious moments where we were happy together-together as a complete family.

Family…that word,

It sounds so distant...so intensely fragile...so hard to grasp, though it seemed to be only half an arm's reach away, it was shielded from me...too heavily protected by an unknown force...why?

Why was it hidden from me?

Was it because my mother was deceased?

Was it because our family bond has always felt so long-distanced?

Or was it because of the upcoming inevitable, because it knew who I was destined to become? Why? I ask myself so worryingly. Why me, a boy who had just recently lost his most treasured piece of her life? A boy raised solely by his well-loved father, without the necessary love of a mother? Why me, a lonely boy with no pity from his faux friends, friends who talk constantly behind my back, friends that I could never confide my bursting feelings to? Why especially me, a boy whose feelings are kept bottled up for all these lonely years, with only the companionship of my father, feelings which were pleading-no, begging-to explode at any unsuspecting moment? A boy which he himself had called his own hurting self that he was nothing but a loser, a brat, a dimwit, a good-for-nothing boy who barely talks but hides. "He hides from everything." I heard one of my fellow classmates discuss, when they thought I couldn't overhear their silenced conversation. "He runs. Runs! he's a coward, that Tsuna boy, or whatever he's called. He never stands up for himself, he avoids and hides at anything, a fucking coward, that's him all right, and nothing else. A coward."

Most times when I hear anything like "stupid", "gross" or "creepy Tuna", my fists would clench unwillingly. The hard-to-resist urge to punch the hell out of all of them felt intense with reddening rage. Many of my evil glances at them may go unnoticed.

Why would they?

No one notices me.

Why should they?

They know me as the boy who never talks at all. Always Tsuna is a bitch and whatnot for no apparent reason. Why wouldn't they? They don't know me at all. Call me anything - whatever! - and I won't reply. Call me something bad, I will kick you in the face. Call me something that is plain inappropriate, I will find a way to make you sorry, to make you regret saying that in my face, as long as you live.

Call me unworthy...and I'll make sure you end up in the hospital, in the top-priority ward, for two whole years.

But to call my mother or father a disgrace to have a fucking child like me, I'll swear to god, these will be the last words you ever hear before you depart for the next world: "I hope you end up in hell."

Insulting my mother was one thing, but my father? He was the only person that could truly still earn my love in this world where the living walk. He was the only trusted parent I had left, the only one who I could approach and talk to when I was upset. He was the very last person who I still admired, still looked up to. Insulting him was sending yourself a one-way ticket to hell. You were definitely not coming back if you do, I'll guarantee that personally.

Then my dream faded like it was made out of mist. Everything - my mother, the wheat grass field, the chirping sounds of birds, the warmth of the sun, and the soothing smell of lavender - all gone like it never was really there.

And I awoke in my room; my eyes still remained closed, with its barren walls and dull coloring. My fingers were clutched around my bed sheets as if I was clawing them during my sleep. My pillows were scattered all around the moonlight-lit bed. They were tossed and thrown out of pure rage. It was a ritual I repeatedly endured before I went in for the night. I would stare blankly at the pictures of mom I had in my room. I had kept them. I had searched for all of them in the house. I took them out of my father's album, printed them out from my phone. There were so few, but the best would lay right next to me in bed, her smiling face looking up almost seemingly at me as I wake up from a good night's sleep. Comforting, I had always felt to feel the sunlight's fingers on my shoulders, telling me that everything is fine, just like my mother always had done many years ago. I had expected the very same as I realized the dream had ended and reality had settled once again, but to find myself in a cold bed on a cold night with only the moonlight's beams as assurance, I panicked at that very thought. Indeed, as my alert eyes snapped open, my room was silent unlike the mornings I had anticipated.

Mornings like those were always accompanied with the energizing sounds of the morning birds awakening, as well as the delightful mixtures of scents emitting from the morning glories which simply bloomed along the garden wall. All of these were replaced by the chilling sense of ice being dripped down your spine, the lone hustle and bustle of the winds and the unmistakable pungent smell of longing emptiness surrounding me. I felt extremely alone.

I rubbed my eyes. That dream...I remember it now. It was my birthday. My mother...she didn't wear that dress...she wore a T-shirt with jeans...We were playing hide-and-seek...I was caught...my mother took me back to the car...Ugh. Thinking of her made my head want to burst. But without her in my life, everything has then felt to dark and hollow.

Like now.

I took the first opportunity to flick the rectangular-shaped bedroom night light on. It managed to illuminate half the creeping shadows with its luminous white shade of bright color, easing my increasing heart beats per minute. I pulled the thick quilted blanket off me, took a sudden blast of the night's cold, and approached the window. I tied the curtains to prevent it from annoying me with its flapping and constant twisting, as if it was dancing along with the wind, doing a slowed waltz. Thankfully, after I had restrained it once again, it was unmoving and silent.

With my hands cupped on my chin, I gazed up into the tall night sky. The stars seemed to be winking at me, the moon, however, seemed to be scrutinizing at my messed-up looks, the wind seemed to be singing me a joyful kindergarten tune. I longed at the stars above. It twinkled. It shone. It shimmered. The wind made my hair fly till my face itched badly from the bunch of brunet hair that pricked my cheeks.

The moon?

It simply gazed sadly down at me, like it knew something about me that I didn't. I scoffed. How would that happen? I knew myself extremely well, what could the moon know that I didn't? It dawned to be as absurd.

I moved on.

I looked down at the unoccupied street. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary, except the neighbor's cat was loose again, so that caused a series of outraged barks down the street.

I moved on further.

My head dipped down more as I focused on our lawn, silver-grey in the moon's given light. Well-kept was the grass, pretty were the tulips and red roses (pity because they were hidden from my window view, they were beautiful to admire especially on a lonely night like that.), and silent was the entire garden, like an abandoned graveyard. I could see the apple tree gleaming with apples just waiting to be harvested in the corner, the melons as big as half my size (why did dad harvest them yet? I wondered) and the sprouting stems of the potatoes buried underneath. Then -

I heard something.

Behind those bushes.

Rustling. Soft and muffled.

There. Again.

I was sure of it.

But the question was: who/what did it?

Could've it been just a cat, possibly the neighbor's?

Could've been a rat or some other animal?

Could've it been a burglar just bouncing in excitement to rob this house? Whatever it was, I wasn't too sure. It was sure trying to keep its noise down, like it was trying to decrease any levels of being noticed by anyone.

Another rustle.

It must be a burglar. Who else?

Another rustle. Softer this time.

I should go get dad now.

A shake.

My eyes were on the door, my escape route, and my feet ready to run for dad. At least shout "Burglar!" and maybe he'll go away.

Then I heard it.

"Meorw!"

Fuck it. A stupid cat.

"Get off our lawn!" I shouted, pissed.

The black striped cat looked at me with those stunning emerald green eyes. It hissed at the bush it came from, like it's anger was mostly directed at it, and not at me, which sent a weird feeling through my whole body. After a few other hisses, it left through the hole in the garden fence.

"Stupid cat." I spat.

I slammed the two windows shut, hoping to god that my sleep will not go undisturbed any longer.

I flicked the night light off, climbed into my bed and slammed my eyelids shut too.

I didn't want to now what to expect next. Just let me get my god damn sleep! I thought.

The man with a fedora hat, cleverly hidden behind the cover of the shadows, raised his walkie-talkie to his lips. "Nice one there,Colonello. Doesn't suspect a thing. Over."

A abrupt crackle of a walkie-talkie, brought one of the receivers, named Colonello, to attention. He replied:

"Thanks, Reborn. Cat was here anyway, kora. Over." He added the last word after a millisecond of hesitation.

Reborn spoke through the transmitter, his voice deep, and said in an almost inaudible whisper to avoid any unnecessary attention, which almost threatened to be carried off by the howling wind, even the receiver had to bend down to hear it:

"You have your orders," Colonello readied his combat gear at this, anxious, "Now, go."

Colonello came from behind the bush, crouched along the garden wall, his footsteps masked by the silence, and readied his sniper rifle with a click. He spoke into his walkie-talkie once more:

"Sniper positioned. Reborn, we are on all go."

**End of chapter 1**

**NEED BETA T-T**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:  
t(-_-t)** FCKYEAH! Wished I own this.

Author's Note: Formerly entitled **Se7en.**

**AU/OOC**

**This chapter is between Tsuna and Iemitsu's POVs. **

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

**Shoot to Kill**

_He was my I'm just like him.A psychopath.A murderer.A raging serial killer looking for revenge._

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

**Chapter 2**

My father, a man living in his early thirties, knew what to expect next. He knew very well he had committed the most greatest mistake of his secret life. He knew it could cost him his wealthy life, his well -known reputation but worst yet: his family.

**Iemitsu's POV**

_Family… _Then he thought sadly, _Tsuna…_

He cupped his hands onto his worried face, sighing deeply. Tsuna…his only last family…his only last remembrance of Nana…Oh, Nana…Beautiful, loving Nana. My father sighed yet again; the pain in his heart was weighing him down now. Saying this pained him as if several metal stakes had pierced through his heart. Nana, his loving wife, oh, how could I have let you die?

How could I've left you – my joy, my hope, my last strand of happiness I still had – alone?

How could I, your careless husband, let you slip past my fingers so easily? How could I'd let you pass on, without me and Tsuna?

_Your love was I had left, why? Why did you die so soon? Tsuna needed you as his mother, but ever since you left so unexpectedly that night, Tsuna has never been his usual cheery self, always evading when he could, failing at what he could not, always shy to experience new things_.

He exhaled a breathy sigh, muttering,

"_Why? Why? Why?"_

The clock beside his bed signaled the three red digits **1:57 a.m.**

_Tsuna…My father continued his train of thought, forgive me, will you? Everything that had happened in your lifetime…the fault is evidently mine. It may not seem obvious to you, my son, but it might appeal to you as the suspecting truth sooner or later…forgive me, Tsuna…I have done the most wrong, not you…not anyone else…all me…_

**1: 58 a.m.**

**Tsuna's POV**

My father got up from his sitting position, agitated he felt as he wiped his tears of depression, and ambled towards his bedroom window. It was curtain less, plain, with its elegant white frames and glass material. He saw a glimpse of his reflection: his blonde straggly hair, well-built features, but yet it showed his sadness and his eyes that shone with growing grief. What more did he have to lose? His wealth? His house? His job?

_Tsuna?_

**1: 59 a.m.**

**Iemitsu's POV**

No. He thought determinedly. I'll _never_ lose him. I had made a promise to Nana. I'll keep it as long as I live. Tsuna, my last living hope of happiness after Nana, I love him so much…but without his mother after all these lone years, he's never been the same. What can I do? Tsuna seems so torn after what had happened…but, frankly, this family has long since been together as one. But once my secret's out, our family would have no chance of reuniting like old times – those happy, happy times we laughed, cried and shared as a father, mother and son. In the end, they would seem like memories that were forgotten, lost in the wind.

Oh, Tsuna…

**2: 00 a.m.**

_Forgive me, will you?_

Colonello stood ready at the garden wall, adjusting the scope so that it was in view of the suspect. Through the radio, he issued the signal: "Eyes on suspect. Clear to enter. Over."

My father gazed through the glass for what felt like the last time, then, he reached for the wooden bedside drawer, muttering solemnly,

"_I'm so sorry, Tsuna, I truly am, but this is the only way. Forgive me."_

**Tsuna'sPOV**

Me? I simply laid wide awake in my bed, safe in my room, unaware of the inevitable – what was going to occur a few seconds later, why they – by them it meant the police - did so and how it shaped my life from there.

Everything begins now.

**::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::**

**I changed the plot of this story so here it goes.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:  
t(-_-t)** FCKYEAH! Wished I own this.

Author's Note: Formerly entitled **Se7en.**

**AU/OOC**

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

**Shoot to Kill**

_He was my I'm just like him.A psychopath.A murderer.A raging serial killer looking for revenge._

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

**Chapter 3**

**1:45 a.m.**

Colonello adjusted his sniper scope again. Once sure he was well-hidden from the resident's view, he aimed at the room where the suspect's back was turned to him.

Fortunately for Colonello, the suspect's current attention was out of this world. The sniper then trained his aiming red dot at the suspect's lower abdomen. _To hurt, but not to kill_, thought Colonello. _Unless, of course, necessary._

Colonello knew that the suspect was a rich man in his thirties. Well-known. Famous, almost like president-famous. Rich, as if the suspect was just flowing with waterfalls of endless money. Colonello, expected this insane psycho to be an exact opposite, possibly a lone beggar in the streets, unknown by anyone, not a penny to his name. But, this guy seemed to have everything in his life...why did he do all of those things to his victims? All those severed mutilation victims. The burnt ones. The drowned ones. The hanged ones. The throat-slashed ones.

Why? Why did he commit all those heinous crimes? Crimes in which no one with the right mind would suspect him to be on the very top of the suspects list? Despite all of his fame, glory and money, the evidence protests. The last murder a few days ago was the final straw.

Picturing so vividly in his mind, Colonello remembered how he felt the day he received this mission. The day he was thoroughly overcome with grief over a loss of someone he cared about. The day when he felt so depressed, so terrified about what was to come...The day when he finally admitted that his daughter's life had passed. To Colonello, a passionate father with a recent passing of his only child, it was hard to admit so. Imagine someone that you love - your father, your mother or even one of your siblings - just...leaving, gone, disappeared, vanished...pain would most definitely strike your heart like a punch in the stomach. Pain, it grows unexpectedly from within, rooting itself in the most delicate parts so close to shattering like vulnerable glass. It's almost impossible to uproot. "It takes time, but it will cease." Lal Mirch's voice echoed in Colonello's head. Being his loving wife and his daughter's mother, it was even harder than handle the misery of what she had lost. But she had managed it, though many nights Colonello could hear his wife saying ever so softly, with sadness so overwhelming, "I miss you...I miss you..." Simple heartbreaking moments like those just seem to stick to your memories like glue.

Minutes before he received his mission, he sat glumly at the kitchen table, ignoring the scrumptious scents of scrambled eggs and sausages laid in front of him. While avoiding his stinging tears of agony, he stared out of the windows. Raining, he reckoned, as countless drops of silver ran down the kitchen window, emitting subtle sounds of tapping. It reflected how he felt that moment, for it had been only three days since the discovery of his daughter's body...just motionless...dead. Horrified. Shocked. Alarmed. Colonello endured the disgusting mixture of all three.

He sighed and covered his face with his hands. That feeling had indeed decreased over the past events, but it was still...there -hidden, most likely -still waiting for the perfect moment to strike once again. This time, to scar him for his whole life. It could strike now, when he was grieving, but the feeling burning in him was patient, as it knew the moment was about to come, to see Colonello suffer and crumble to depression. It just had to wait some more, the right time, the right place, the right feeling of pain...

Not yet.

"Honey?"

Colonello did not respond.

"You all right?"

Silence.

"Honey?"

Why bother? Colonello sunk back into deep depression.

Lal Mirch knew that he wanted to be left alone now. No talking, no laughing, not one smile. Nothing.

She had to try.

She walked over and sat in the seat next to him, placing her hand in his. "Nello," she said in her melodious tone, "Nello, I know how you're feeling right now. Em...she...she lived a good life. She had a caring father, who constantly loved her no matter what." Lal Mirch paused. "You made her happy, joyful and blessed. God will be good to her, Nello. I'm sure of it."

Colonello looked up; his eyes were dark and a million miles distant. He looked at his wife with doubt etched on his face. Lal Mirch brushed a bundle of brown hair away from her face. She said, "Aya...I miss her dearly too...I mean, she was everything...our only child, our pride and joy...I know that." Saying this, it brought her several more tons of heavy weight on her shoulders.

"Lal," Colonello spoke, his voice hoarse. "I just...I just can't believe that she's...gone."

"Me too."

"Aya...just saying her name, it lightens me...but without her being there...something's just not right..." Colonello said slowly.

"I know, Nello." Lal Mirch sniffed. "I know."

"I-I-"

"I miss her." she finished. "We both do."

The heavy rain splattered down the windows even harder, as if it was sympathizing with out indescribable pain. Colonello, as tough as it already was, tried to recall the bright smile Aya - oh, Aya - she always had on her face. The time she sat on her first swing set in the backyard, the way her brown hair glowed in the sunlight behind her, the way she laughed, the way she called out: "I love you, daddy!" Judging by the amount of pain he was suffering under, it was better off being stabbed countlessly with a stake. His daughter...his treasure...I admit, now, Colonello thought, she's gone.

"Gone." Lal Mirch heard Colonello mutter. "Gone."

Many hours had passed by quickly as if time had become liquid. Colonello spent his time longing out of the windows, arms crossed. Deep down, he knew that there were no such things as second chances for the deceased. When you die, you die. Colonello wanted to prove that incorrect, but, heck, how would he? Doubt settled in.

And there was no chance in getting it out.

"Colonello! 'Lo? Colonello!" It was followed by heavy rapping at the front door.

"Coming." Colonello composed himself and walked over to the door. Once opened, Colonello was greeted by a wet man in a black trench coat. Colonello recognized him as his boss, Reborn from the police department. Colonello was surprised for the reason of his visit was unknown.

"Reborn." Colonello greeted, as he stiffly stepped back to let his visitor in.

"Colonello." Reborn Drake muttered solemnly, in his hand he held a case file covered protectively by a plastic-sealed bag. The Reborn, however, was soaked from top to toe. "A wet day, ain't it?"

"Obviously."

"Meh."

"Reborn, what are you doing here?"

"Important business."

"What kind of business?"

The Reborn winked in a mischievous manner.

"What - ?"

The Reborn silenced him with a finger to the lips. Then, "Later, Colonello. Later."

Suddenly, Lal Mirch, who seemed to notice the Reborn's appearance, came hurrying over with three fluffy towels. "Here."

"Thanks." The Reborn said. Colonello stood dumbfounded on the spot.

Lal Mirch asked, "Drake, living room, if you may."

"Pleasure."

And Colonello managed to return to his original state.

While Colonello escorted their guest into the living room, where the atmosphere was hopefully warmer, he stole a glance at the case file the Reborn was holding. Though the bold numbers were upside-down, Colonello managed to read the numbers, 56-66.

_Huh_. Somehow familiar, thought Colonello, _but where?_ He racked his brains for an answer, but the memory was dim, and he failed to recall it.

The living room they had just entered was cozy, but the rain's chillness was still present, which sent a shiver down Colonello's spine. The living room consisted of two couches sitting on one rug each. The square coffee table was decorated with a vase of white tulips in the centre. Series after series of family pictures hung the walls. Colonello passed a few, staring mostly at the long-forgotten moments with their lost daughter, desiring for her to somehow return and embrace them as a family again.

"Reborn, what is this about?" Lal Mirch asked, taking her place on the couch opposite the fedora man. Colonello followed her example.

While he wiped himself dry, he simply told us, "This unexpected meeting concerns your daughter's case."

"Aya?"

"Yes," Reborn wiped the sealed plastic bag dry too. He smoothly extracted the case file in it. "Aya, Colonello. Case number 56-66."

Colonello felt his fists clench suddenly. Lal Mirch saw this and took his rigid hand into hers just like the way she did so in the morning. He relaxed and managed to say, "What about her?"

"We believe that your daughter's murder is linked to a series of other murders currently happening in the area, as well as 34 other cases." Colonello was secretly surprised at the number of killed victims. "Your daughter was a victim of the recent murder spree in this neighborhood. She died - "Reborn showed the picture of Aya's covered body. "of drowning."

"D-Drowning?" Lal Mirch whispered.

"Yes, drowning. Her body was found in Kensington River." He showcased yet another photo. A beautiful park with lots of green surrounding it. "Our M.E. states that yes, her cause of death was indeed drowning, but Aya was first stabbed from the back, first leading to blood loss. The killer then tied her hands and feet and dumped her at the river. She was still alive when she was pushed into the river."

Lal Mirch had closed her eyes; she dare not look at both the pictures. Colonello was taking deep steady breaths to maintain himself.

"I'm sorry if this troubles you, but this is necessary for the ongoing investigation. We need to know about Aya - her whereabouts on the 13th, frequent places she would go to, friends, school...anything that helps." Reborn said, waiting for an answer. But Colonello noticed something in his posture, something in his eyes, the way he looked at Colonello so interested looking...

"Aya said that she was going to hang out with some of her friends that night...she didn't tell me where..."

Lal Mirch was close to crying. By the hidden look on theReborn's face, he had won. Puzzled, Colonello quickly said, "I'm sorry, Reborn. Mel can't handle this, can she go upstairs?"

"Sure." Lal Mirch heard this, exited and nearly ran up the stairs, sobbing as she trudged up.

Colonello watched her go. He looked back at the Reborn just as he was retrieving the photos. He returned the case file to the sealed-plastic bag as if saying silently, I don't need this anymore. Colonello didn't like this was he up to now? Was there something besides the case? What was his true purpose for this visit?

"Colonello." The Reborn leaned forward; his voice developed a more serious tone. "Do you know why I'm here?"

"Honestly? No."

Reborn chuckled. "Of course you don't."

"This isn't about my daughter's case?"

"It still is, Colonello. It still is."

"Then why - ?"

"Colonello, listen, we have the killer."

This was big news.

"But -?"

"Why did I come here?" The Reborn snorted. "Certainly not just to tell you that your daughter can now rest in peace."

"Then - ?"

"The police are offering you to do something for them, Colonello. A job."

"What - ?"

The Reborn held up his hand to silence him. "You were a sniper back then?"

"Correct. How - ?"

"One of the best?"

"Sure, put it that way. H - ?"

"They are offering you a job to assist them..."

Silence. The tension was too great. No word came out of Colonello's mouth to protest.

"...to kill this killer, to put an end to his sins."

Colonello was already lost at the words _kill this killer_. It energized him. It strengthened him. It made all his sadness vanish. He was going to kill the man who murdered his daughter. He was going to kill the man that had stabbed his daughter without mercy. He was going to kill the man who took his joy away from him.

_It's all I ever wanted to do._

_Kill this killer._

"Do you accept?"

_It's all I ever hoped for._

_Kill this killer._

_And put an end to his sins._

"Yes."

**1.59 a.m.**

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**I changed the plot of this story so here it goes.**

**Colonello's shorthand number = 56**

**Lal Mirch's shorthand number = 66**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:  
t(-_-t)** FCKYEAH! Wished I own this.

Author's Note: Formerly entitled **Se7en.**

**AU/OOC**

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**Shoot to Kill**

_He was my I'm just like him.A psychopath.A murderer.A raging serial killer looking for revenge._

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**Chapter 4**

**2:01 a.m.**

The buzz of the radio made Colonello come back to his original senses. Shaking off the uncomfortable feeling of pain, he picked up the radio once more. He heard the deep voice of the Sergeant, "Units are on stand-by. Colonello, what is the position of the suspect?"

"Suspect is on target. Over."

A pause of static. "Are we clear to enter? Over."

Using his sniper scope for a more magnified view, Colonello looked once more into the window. What he saw made his mouth drop wide open, gaping. He was speechless to reply.

"Colonello?"

_**How can it be? I-I didn't even see it**_…Colonello blinked as if in a trance.

"Colonello!" An outraged whisper.

Colonello managed to say while he scanned for another check, hoping deep in his heart that he was wrong, "Er…Reborn?"

"Spit it out, Colonello." Reborn was irritated.

The red dot, which served as a target, was still concentrated on the window, as still as it was. One more sweep of the suspect's last known position perhaps. Colonello was stunned. He was sure of it. The suspect was there. Right there. But -

"Reb-?" Colonello gulped. "He saw us."

His reaction was what Colonello had expected. "WHAT?!" Reborn's voice was loud enough to wake up the whole street of houses. Luckily, at the last moment, the fedora man managed to refrain himself from screaming his only pair of lungs out.

"Reborn…? That's not the only problem…" Colonello gripped his equipment tightly, nervous.

"What is it this time, Colonello?" He nearly shouted.

Colonello sounded breathless.

"**He's got a knife."**

**2:03 a.m.**

**2:00 a.m.**

**Tsuna's POV**

My father reached for the wooden drawer. His expression was serious. But, of course it was serious, why wouldn't it be when something dreadful was about to take its place? My father wasn't a fool to play around with. He wasn't a fool not to notice that someone was watching him. He wasn't a fool not to notice that someone had other intentions that night. He wasn't a fool not to realize that the police would eventually expose him as someone who you should avoid at all times.

_Possibly dangerous and on the loose_.

He heard the police's voice echo in his mind as he recalled last night's breaking news:

_"No identified witnesses. This killer is extremely organized. He plans. He stalks. He targets before striking. We warn the public not to go alone at night, to avoid walking into deserted alleyways and accepting gifts from unknown strangers. We believe that this killer is well-known among residents living in the area. He could be a renowned business man, lawyer, doctor or a surgeon, but, no matter how friendly he appeals to you, he is a raging killer. A killer with a col-heart, a killer who kills with no mercy, a killer who killed a total of 35 victims, all severely mutilated. His choices of victims are seemingly random, several died in the cover of the night, others in secluded areas such as abandoned warehouses. Since the case is still currently under investigations with our best detectives at work, members of the public are to take precautions in locking their doors securely at night, as well as setting the house alarm is a necessity while this killer is still on the loose. That is all."_

Best detectives at work? He snorted proudly.

_I'd like to see them try._

**Iemitsu's POV**

In one swift move, he pulled the first drawer open, revealing something silver.

"I'm so sorry, Tsuna."

His mind was made up. And it was final.

He bolted out of the room, a gleaming silver knife in hand.

**"But this is the only way."**

**2:04 a.m.**

"This is Reborn Chaos, I repeat: this is Reborn Chaos. Suspect Sawada Iemitsu is armed. Caution when proceeding. Units on my go. Over." Reborn ordered.

"Colonello," He felt angered for his mistake. "Colonello, you are to shoot on my command, got it? On my command. No hesitation. Is that clear?"

Colonello was still recovering from his shock. "Clear...sir."

The Sergeant felt uneasy. "Good. All units," He paused. "you have permission to enter. Over."

Then, he directed the next message to Colonello, "Colonello, no more slip ups, got it?"

"Got it."

"All right, units, proceed. Strike if necessary but keep in mind that we need the suspect _alive_."

"Sir, yes, sir."

"Good. Colonello?"

"In position." Colonello replied.

"Roger that. Alpha units, knock it down."

**BAM!**

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**I changed the plot of this story so here it goes.**

**t(-_-t) FCKYEAH CLIFFY!**

**I don't know Reborn's surname! So if you know what it is, kindly correct my mistake.**


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